


Wanna Ruck?

by ace_of_asphodel



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rugby, Angst, Codependency, Depression, Dubious Ethics, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Rugby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_of_asphodel/pseuds/ace_of_asphodel
Summary: “Please refrain from doing that, Cross. You’re going to give me a heart attack before I reach twenty!”“Aw shaddup, you play rugby for fuck’s sake! That’s more likely to kill you before you piss your pants, little scaredy-cat,” I huffed, moving over to the sink and holding his coffee mug over it tauntingly.“Well,” I sighed dramatically before smirking, “I guess that means you don’t need your coffee. Oh well, truly a waste. What a shame.”“God dammit, fuck. Allen, don’t. I’ll die without my morning coffee.”“Well then I better call an ambulance. It was 911 correct?” Cross groaned and smashed his face into the counter.Welcome to the United States of America?I'd rather be in England.





	1. Goodbye, sweet England. I loved you so.

The championship.

This is what me and the whole team had been working for these whole six months of hard training, team bonding, and scrimmages. I didn’t do all of the extra training in my spare time for nothing, and it sure would help me now. Just because I’m a skinny lock doesn’t mean I can’t deal a load or knock someone twice my size down.

“Oi, Allen! Ya’ rea’y for this?” Ross shoved in his mouth guard as we squatted down, binding onto each other’s shirts. My left arm went around him, it was covered in a full arm glove but no one cared about my arm. They embraced it just like they embraced me. I popped in my mouth guard too and smiled around it.

“‘ell ya’,” Ross smiled and slapped me on the back encouragingly. Louise gave me a pat too as he came in on the other side.

“That’s the spirit!” He put in his mouth guard and we all moved into position, leaning forward hard at a hard 120 degree angle. One time at a party we even measured the angle of our scrum to see if we were doing it right; I know it sounds quite ridiculous and nerdy but there may have been a couple on the piss. Rugby was our life so when we did it right we were always excited. We were inserted in position and all I could see was the grass and our neon cleats clashing with the green of the ground. My cleats were neon pink for a few reasons.

  1. They are neon
  2. Everyone knows they are mine
  3. Ross and Louise made me
  4. I am gay.



“Crouch! Set! Bind!” We all pushed our weight forward and I felt that familiar tingling feeling in my stomach as we waited for the ball to be rolled in. “Set nine!” The shift in weight of the players alerted me and the familiar shout of the scrum-half made me smile around the mouth guard as I lifted a foot and rolled the ball back to Derek and Sam. We waited in tense silence for the next move. This game would be my last with them and I would  _ not _ make a stupid mistake now. They didn’t call me the white-devil for nothing!

“Ball’s out!” Instantly we scattered and the ball was traveling down the back-line. Fly-half. Inside center. Outside center. Wing.

“Suppor’!” The captain, Dylan, shouted around his mouth-guard and we forwards ran in a group behind the ball, following it as it passed between each player. I heard the back-line shout out as they reformed to support the wing, Clayton. The other team’s players sprinted forward and a big back-liner tackled Clayton to the ground. I was the first one there and shoved the guy off, met with the next guy and formed a ruck.

Giddiness filled my stomach as I realized how weak this guy was and I pushed forward, regaining the ground and getting the guy back. I felt someone move behind me to grab the ball and I stood my ground until they shouted “ball’s out” again. We quickly gained ground with our fly-half Kole pushing past the opposite team and sprinting down the field. Ross and I were quick to follow him, since we saw the big forward chasing after him at top speed, and we grabbed onto each other as we pushed him off of our fallen teammate. We stayed in position and held strong as two other forwards came at us in a similar position to ours and tried to push us off.

I felt Ross stagger a moment and it helped ignite my flame and push back even harder. Last season we had learned that I was very protective of my teammates and friends, because, whenever I saw someone trying to put them down in any way, or saw them looking nervous, I was quick to their aid and acted like a “mama bear protecting her child” as Dylan put it bluntly. It had made us all laugh and brought us closer, because that was also around the time that they found out that I was gay. Basically, it was because I had a crush on this new older guy on our team until he started to beat-down on Ross and I retaliated hard, embarrassing myself when I said that I was “ashamed to have liked him romantically.”

We scored our first try by the quiet full-back, Jason, with his head of sky-blue hair. We all went up and rubbed his hair like a good-luck charm, giving him encouragement and congratulations. He was new on the team this year and one of our smallest players in stature. Jason was still taller than me and Ross, but he had an even slighter frame than me, and he wasn’t nearly as strong as Ross, which was why he was put in the back, but he was fast and quick on his feet.

“Nice one, Jase. I knew you could do it,” he gave me a smile as I reached up and he leaned down so I could rub his hair. In anyone else I would have been angry that they had to lean down for me to even touch their head, but Jason was a gentle giant and never means any harm, unless we are playing rugby. Our hooker, Lyel, kicked another try and we gave out high-fives to the stout Irish-man. The other team gave the kick-off and it was Alec who caught it. We all quickly reformed as he ran forward, dodging tacklers and faking out other players. He was our other wing and again Ross, Louise, and I followed him down the field. Sometimes the field felt tiny when in reality it was bigger than an American football field.

“Ou’ a’ th’ way benda’!” Alec had been tackled to the ground and as I rucked over a stout forward slammed into me, pushing me back a foot and almost breaking over the staple Alec had formed but Ross and Louise came on behind me and helped me push the prat back.

“Oi! No one calls Allen tha’, you arse!” Ross snarled and growled as we all pushed the guy back. It was probably my white hair or the scar or shoes that made him think something like that. At least he didn’t call me a freak. It sure did put the team off at first, but after explaining the accident but, they all understood, and reassured me they wouldn’t let anything like that happen again. It was especially funny when some of them yelled at Cross for being a bad guardian.

The whistle pierced through the air as the ball was kicked over the side-line and we formed a line-out. The opposite team’s props held onto the eight’s shorts to lift him up and gave our team weird looks when our props didn’t do the same. I smirked at them and rolled my eyes, putting some of them off. Over the past year, we had learned how to lift professionally, after watching many games and getting many bruises and broken bones. Now the props could run up, the eight would run over and jump up, then the props would catch them around the thigh under our cycling shorts, or spandex, and push them up farther so we could gain extra height on most opposing teams.

The other team’s hooker threw the ball and our eight, Chase, caught the ball. We formed a maul and I made sure to get in the front like we practiced so I could push against the other team easier.To my luck I was across from the wanker that called me a bender earlier. He snarled and shouted insults into deaf ears as we pushed our way down the field. I stared at the ground with a blank face. I was used to getting called things like this but seriously, this guy was a real arsehole. 

We easily won the first half of the game with forty six to fourteen, and most of the players were rotated out, except for me, Ross, Dylan, Chase, Lyel, Jason, and Alec. We all said we were okay and I felt bad for Louise because the only reason he had to stay out was because he had hurt his ribs in a ruck when I wasn’t able to come support him soon enough. Ross and him tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault but I wasn’t easy to persuade at things like this. So now instead of me and Ross next to Louise in the scrum we had the newbie Carlton or “Carly” as he was deemed when he let his hair from a bun to show the three-feet of golden-brown, silky, wavy locks that could put any girl to shame. We weren’t as close and he wasn’t as strong but the kid had guts and knew to stick close to me during games because he had opposed me once in a game after hearing about the “white-devil” from a friend. 

The nickname had put me off at first but I came to like it but I never used it myself out loud because I was too embarrassed. Anyways, it wouldn’t matter too much soon since after this game I was getting on a plane to move to America with Cross. I had been staying with Ross the past few days so I could stay for the championship game even though we technically moved out a fortnight ago. It was not really to my liking but Cross had to move for work again, whatever it is that he does, and that meant I had to go too.

"Nice one Allen!" I was slapped on the bum by Ross after stealing the ball and scoring my first try of the game. I flushed and told him to bug off. He seriously had no sense of  personal space, which was how they found out about my arm in the first place, but I couldn't not admit that I was a  _ little _ attracted to him. I mean his brown buzz-cut, strong jaw, freckles, blue eyes and strong body that hovered over me by a few inches was very attractive, but he wasn't my type, more like a brother really.

"Aw is lill' Allen  _ embarrassed _ ?" I punched his shoulder hard enough to bruise, scoffing with a flushed face.

"You know bloody why you twit," he chuckled as we guzzled some water before returning to the game. We had less than five minutes left and we're definitely going to win this one, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t going to keep trying. 

We were on the other side of the field now and far into the second half. We made the kick-off and sprinted down the field to intercept their beefy forward. He was fast but Carly caught him, bringing the guy to the ground. He rolled away and Ross and Derek pushed their ruckers over. I stole the ball before our scrum-half could come by and sprinted, darting in and out and around the other teams players. I felt some of them grab the edge of my shirt and I pushed them off before they could tackle me. Then as I passed their full-back I felt strong arms wrap around my middle, pulling me back but not knocking me down.

I still trudged forward, albeit at a slower pace since it would take more than one man to take me down. I felt arms around one of my legs and I kicked them off and shook from the grip around my stomach. Sprinting towards the try line I felt a smile come to my face but then a horrible force knocked me forward. I turned as I fell and was met with a cleat in the face. There was shouting as I moved so my team could have the ball, stretching my body across the ground like the professionals do, and I felt cleats smash down and dig into my back. I bit down on the mouth guard and looked up to see Ross rucking with the guy who was standing on me. More cleats grazed and hit my back and side and legs and I groaned in pain. 

Ross must have heard because he placed a foot by my head and forced the guy back a few inches. The stress on my back was relieved slightly as I stared at the cleats around me while they fought in the ruck. I couldn’t roll away and sighed as I was accidentally kicked in the head a few times before our scrum-half took the ball and scored our last try. 

The ruckers all stepped back and Ross helped me up, clucking like a mother hen as he brushed me off and asked if I was okay. He grabbed my face with one hand and looked at the bruise I could feel forming across my cheek and nose. He touched the area around my nose, checking to see if it was broken and I winced slightly. Ross frowned and let go, taking his mouth guard out and wiping his hands on the jersey before moving two fingers on either sides of my nose. He wiggled it and I bit down on the mouth guard, wincing in pain.

“Looks like it’s bro’en,” he said and sighed. I popped out my own mouth guard and before I could say anything someone pushed Ross forward and he fell into me. Not expecting this I fell to a ground, closing my eyes as I expected Ross to fall on me. When he didn’t I opened them and saw him kneeling over me with his hands on either sides of my head and a shocked look over his reddened face.

“Ge’ ta’ room benda’s!” Someone shouted out and I saw something dark cross Ross’ face. He stood up, pulling me with him and turned to the people who shouted.

“Don’ you dare call Allen tha’, ya’ hea’ me?” He shouted in fury and probably would have ripped the guy's head off but Dylan touched he shoulder, shaking his head. Ross scowled and pulled me by the arm to our bags. We all pulled off our jerseys and handed them to our Coach before he congratulated us on us winning championships. He invited us all to a party afterwards but a few of us declined, including me and Ross. Ross was going to bring me back to his house to gather my stuff and as we began to walk away from the field towards the bus stop when someone grabbed my left arm.

“Wha’ ya’ hide ’en ‘ere benda’?” Some of the guys yanked me back and I tried to keep myself from freaking out. I pulled my arm away and kept a blank face as I heard Ross growl and step forward.

“None of your business,” they laughed and I felt Ross pulling me away when the group of guys ripped the glove from my arm before their faces fell into looks of horror or hate.

“Bloo’y hell,” I pulled my arm to me and turned on my heel, walking past Ross and towards the bus stop.

“You be’a run, ya’ freak!” I heard laughter and Ross followed me as they kept shouting insults. I held the tears back and once they were farther away I stopped and pulled the jacket and short gloves from my bag. I pulled them on angrily and Ross took my bag as I did. Throwing it back over my shoulder I stomped ahead of Ross as soft tears ran down my face.

"Allen," Ross grabbed my shoulder and I let myself be pulled into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his chest and he leaned his cheek against my head as he rubbed my back. I cried silently against him. "I'm sorry 'bout tha'. Should of stopped 'em," I shook my head and pulled back slightly to look at him.

"It's not your fault. They were the pricks, not you," he smiled slightly and kissed my forehead. I was used to this because I found out at a party that he is very affectionate to those he cares about. He had fallen asleep and spooned me on the couch, not even caring when the team took pictures and laughed.

He kept an arm over my shoulder the rest of the walk and we waited on the bench for the bus to arrive. Ross pulled out his phone and clicked through it. I leaned against his shoulder and closed my eyes as I already began to miss him. Ross promised to visit us often in the states and said he would be there next weekend when I was going to start school. It was kind of embarrassing how much I depend on him and how our relationship is. These past few nights at Ross' house were kind of weird because instead of me sleeping on the floor in a bed roll, we shared his bed and always ended up cuddling. It's not like I didn't like it, but whenever I asked Ross about it he would just shrug and change the topic. And what made it worse was all the times people thought we were a couple. I would get all flustered and Ross would do something embarrassing just to get me even more flustered. Last time it happened was when I was making dinner at the counter at one of our rugby hang-outs and he came up behind me and just leaned on my head while hugging me, then they asked and he turned me around and trapped me against the counter before moving in and kissing my cheek. I had slapped him before storming off and he laughed but I was never mad at him.

“Allen,” he nudged me and I sat up, opening my eyes to see the bus arrive. I stood up and stretched bringing my arms over my head and moaning. Ross laughed quick and short with a smile as we boarded the bus, passes at the ready. There were small dings as we swiped the passes. In our seats I stared at the pass sadly, I wouldn’t be using this for a long time. Turning, I stared out the window and leaned against it, watching the suburban areas quickly turn to city life, the older buildings still looking new since they were constantly being repaired and restored, unlike the hole that was forming in my heart again. The hole that Ross and the team so carefully stitched closed and surrounded in warmth and love.

Ross’ fingers brushed mine and when I didn’t flinch away he held my hand in his loosely, squeezing it in reassurance. I squeezed back and didn’t have to look to know he was giving me that look, that look of concern, that look that showed he cared for me. Sometimes I was fine with it but lately it had been annoying me. I think Ross knows but he also just wants me to keep from distancing myself from him even though I am moving. It hurts but I try anyways just to find myself coming back to him since I can’t even go a day without some contact with Ross, physical or not. He promised that he would text and call and video chat with me everyday but it probably wouldn’t last long. He would eventually forget about me or get bored with me just like all of the people I ever had to leave behind.

“I’m okay, Ross. Really,” he knew that I was lying and pulled me close against him, I leaned my head against his shoulder. 

“I’ll miss you,” I nodded and squeezed his hand. Ross kissed my forehead again and leaned against me. “Will ya’ be okay on ya’ own? Still gunna eat and sleep properly?” He used a joking tone but it was very serious. After an encounter with someone from my past at a game I had become incredibly depressed. Isolating myself, eating less, sleeping less, and going back to old habits that the team had tried so hard to stop. They were really worried about me, especially after a certain event.

“Yeah,” I shook myself from my thoughts as he squeezed my hand again. “Cross’ll make sure I do. Old bugger always on my arse about it,” he laughed sadly and we stayed cuddled together on the bus. Both of us feeling a black pit slowly grow in our stomachs at the thought of not being with the one we had cared about the most in these past three years.

I’ll be okay.

Really...


	2. A Suspiciously Nice House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen meets Cross at the airport and is taken to his new home... which is much nicer than anticipated.

I could only sigh as I stared out the window, watching the ground slowly come closer as the aeroplane landed. I really hated this part the most, not leaving my home, but arriving at my new home. It would be then that the reality sinks in, that I am leaving friends behind, that I am once again running away from my past like the coward I am. Every time I have arrived at a new home I’ve felt myself fall back into the dark pits, wanting nothing more than to disappear without a trace. I can already feel the pit growing larger; Ross had been able to sense it too and he could help stop it, but now it had full control over my being and I subconsciously began to trace lines on the sleeves of my disfigured arm.

A light went off followed by a ding and soon a flight attendant was guiding all of the passengers off of the aeroplane. I clutched my one bag to my chest as I followed the line quietly, trying to ignore the ever present stares and glances. Cross said he would be waiting here for me when I get off, but he could’ve gotten the timing wrong, he almost always does. It was most likely a fruitless effort but I kept searching for the sign saying _“Allen Walker”_ in Cross’s scrawled handwriting. My body was sore and heavy, and my feet were aching but I didn’t try to take a seat, it would only make it easier for me to fall asleep and I didn’t want that, not yet at least.

There was a girl that pointed at me and looked up at who seemed to be her mother, asking her something. The woman looked over at me and our eyes met, hers went wide for a moment before she smiled softly in embarrassment. I returned the awkward smile with a little wave and the girl waved back, smiling brightly before scurrying off after her mother. There are the good and the bad in the world, and, hopefully, Cross tried to find somewhere that had more good than bad, since I don’t know how much bad I can take anymore.

“Oi! Idiot brat!” I whipped my head around and didn’t think about biting back the whiny remarc.

“‘tis not how ya’ say ‘t, ya’ bloo’y sod!” My face heated up instantly as I was awarded with many stares and a devilish snicker from Cross. I smiled awkwardly at the other people before briskly walking over to my guardian and telling him to keep quiet. The accent that I’ve had since birth always gets thicker when I stay in Europe for a longer period of time, and it gets even _more_ noticeable whenever I am angry. It has always been incredibly embarrassing when it happens, even if others around me talk the same way, it’s annoying how self-conscious I get sometimes.

Cross quickly walked off to the exit, not bothering to announce so or make sure I was following; I darted in and out of the crowd, trying to avoid running into or irritating people while not losing sight of my foolish guardian. It was a relief to find him waiting outside for me with a daft looking smirk on his face before he lead me to the car. Initially I had been surprised that he had bought a car, seeing that in our time in England we always took a cab or the tube, but it did make more sense now, since we were living in quite a big area and had our own place instead of the little flat we had.

Ross suddenly popped back into my mind and I came back to the hole in my chest. I fisted my trousers with my shaking hands and tried to focus on the scenery around us. It was different for sure, the biggest thing at the moment was the car, it would definitely take me some time to get used to this. The trees and buildings flashed by me and I couldn’t help but sigh. I had tried to find a school that had their own rugby team as well, but it’s sadly not as highly fancied in the states as it is in Europe. It would be quite a pain but I am all for putting together my own team of ruggers. It shouldn’t be too hard, and I can always ask my old mates for help if anything goes wrong. I mentally snapped at myself for nearly sinking into pitiful thought.

“Hey, ya’ there brat?” Glad for the distraction, I ignored the name and looked over to Cross. His head was turned slightly in my direction but eyes on the road.

“I’m sorry, what were you on about?”

“What were ya’ thinkin’ about doin’ this week? Next Monday’s your first day; the kid’s supposed to be here Saturday, yea’?” I nodded and turned back to the window.

“Yes, Ross will be here Saturday. I wish to settle in first, as well as possibly taking a gander around.” He made a noise as we pulled into a suburban area lined with smart two-story homes and small gardens in the front as well as the back. There wasn’t anyone out currently, since it was nearing late autumn and had grown quite parky, although it was much fairer here than it was back in England. The sudden lurching of the vehicle made me yelp in surprise; Cross laughed at me as I glared at him, grumbling under my breath and exiting the car, I held my bag tightly to my chest as I cautiously approached our new house.

“Try not to get _too_ excited, brat.” I frowned and followed Cross into the house, trying to keep my surprise from showing at the significantly larger home. I had heard that things were bigger in the U.S. but this was _ginormous_ compared to the homes we have stayed in before. A frown quickly appeared on my face and I turned to give my guardian a skeptical look.

“Where did you get the money to splurge on such a place? I don’t recall you ever having enough money to get anything of such quality before. Don’t tell me you expect _me_ to work off the debt you have on this place.” My surprise returned as Cross barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Well _Allen_ , it just so happens that I have a very _generous_ friend living around here who was willing to help me pay for the place; as well as helping me get a nice job as a gym teacher at _your_ new school.” My surprise quickly turned to that of horror, which only made him laugh harder as he began to lead me through the rest of the house.

“First story bathroom, kitchen, living room, TV room, basement-”

“We have a _basement_?” He only smirked at my childish excitement and my face flushed red; I turned away as he laughed at me again. At least he’s able to distract me from the growing doubt in my stomach.

“And now to upstairs.” The upstairs had carpeted flooring, unlike that of the polished wood or granite tiles of the ground floor. Which I knew without a doubt that I would be in charge of cleaning. “The master bedroom’s mine and it has the master bathroom. Here’s your full bathroom and bedroom, and this is the study,” he said then turned to me with that irritating smirk. “Any questions? Nope? Okay, I’m going to go downstairs now and make fun of all those idiots on the _Bachelor_ . Have fun with your jet lag!” He jogged away and down the stairs, laughing as he went. I couldn’t help but smile slightly and shake my head. Unlike what many other people think, Cross is a really nice guy, at least, until he’s angry or pissed. We always try to make sure that there is absolutely no booze of any kind in the house, since Cross used to be an alcoholic after his wife, Maria, died. The only thing he’s allowed to drink is a beer or two every once and awhile; and when I find any other type of alcohol in the house I make sure to throw it all out, since, even though he whines about it, Cross _really_ doesn’t want to get addicted to drinking again. Kind of like how I don’t want to fall into the habit of doing _that_ again. So we both help each other out. I throw away his booze, and he gets rid of my _tools_.

My room was much larger than I had imagined, and it had a very smart design, much better than I thought Cross capable of. Although he probably got help with it, meaning making someone else do practically all of it. There was a comfortable looking full-bed with a grey and black patterned duvet, a set of wide shelves that met with the ceiling, with a few stray books here and there, a spacious wood desk with a lamp and a matching swivel chair, and a dresser as tall as me. All of the colors were nicely coordinated together and the walls were a light grey that matched the bed spread. The dresser held all my clothes already, but it was surprisingly _organized_ properly by category and color in neat stacks while others were pressed and hung on hangers in the small closet by the bed. It was a nice surprise but that would mean I had little else to do in this short week before I am to go to school.

Even though my body was slowly becoming more tired, I continued to go on the task of putting the rest of the things in my bag away neatly, cleaning them up as I went. I washed off and left my cleats to air out before placing them in the closet next to my other pairs of shoes, divided my clean and dirty clothes and put them away accordingly, and then organizing all of the other things that laid in a box in the closet that had yet to be unpacked. Some books that I had kept with me by Edgar Allen Poe, David Levithan, Rainbow Rowell, and Hillier, a photo album that the team had made for me as a goodbye gift, the little picture frame that I had of me and my deceased foster father from when I was young, some little trinkets that I had collected over the years went on my desk and the shelves here and there, all of my notebooks from school were placed neatly in a cabinet that came out of the bottom of the desk, my rugby balls and mouth guards were given their own drawer in the dresser, and my little chest filled with the multiple pairs of gloves I owned.

The bathroom was next, and I put the rest of my toiletries in it. The shampoos, soaps, and other products that the bathroom held were stored under the sink for later use as I put my already opened bottles and tools in it. Although I did keep the rechargeable electric toothbrush and high quality toothpaste out and threw away my old ones. It also was a pleasant surprise to see that the new soaps and such were of the kind that I used, or as similar as possible. Strawberry and mango scented shampoo and conditioner, cocoa scented lotion with natural oils, some nice hair gels that I had wanted but couldn’t afford, nice face washing products with their matching acne gels and lotion, an electric razor with clean smelling shaving cream, and a similar smelling body wash and cologne. The combs, brushes, and other hair accessories were average looking but of better quality than my usual ones but I stored the old ones under the sink just in case.

With everything in place and my body starting to get heavier with each passing minute and yawn, I fetched some drawstring trousers, pants, and a T-shirt before jumping into the shower. The water felt nice on my tense muscles, and I scrubbed off all the dead skin with a pumice stone before scrubbing my body down with soap. As the conditioner sat in my hair, I turned the water up in temperature until it was nearly scalding hot then rinsed off the soap with the conditioner following soon after. I was just getting surprise after surprise as I was once again pleased with the plush and thick towels that dried my skin better than the ones we used to own.

Once I washed my face, applied lotion to my skin, brushed my teeth, and dressed, I closed the curtains in my room and curled up in the bed. It took longer for me to fall asleep than I thought, with no familiar smells in the bed. After restlessly trying to fall into well needed rest, I jumped out of the bed and moved downstairs, feeling embarrassed as I entered the TV room and saw Cross’s red hair.

“What do ya’ need, kid?” He glanced at me and I couldn’t help but look away and fidget.

“I uh… do you… still have my old blankets, because I…” my hands toyed with the edge of my shirt as I trailed off. Glancing up for a moment I saw a look of understanding cross his face before he stood up, walking over to a closet I hadn’t noticed and rifling around. I barely caught the blankets and duvet that he threw at me, growing flustered as he laughed.

“Still a kid at heart, huh brat?”

“Oh bug off,” I practically sprinted back up the stairs before diving back in bed, rearranging the blankets around me so that I was tucked in a nest-like bundle of cloths. I kept a light blue fleece blanket hugged to my chest and pressed against my face, breathing in the familiar scent of home, and finally being able to rest.

* * *

 

“But why didn’t you wake me? Thirteen hours of sleep is actually _not good_ for you, Cross. Now I’ll never get my sleep schedule right.” He only groaned from the table as I fixed myself breakfast.

“If I remember this right, and I know I do, the last time I did that you threw those weird ruby balls at me and cracked my glasses,” I cringed, moving the pile of French toast onto two plates, since if I didn’t give Cross some too he would start whining and complaining. He took out the syrup, butter, and icing sugar as I set the plates out on the counter.

“It’s a _rugby_ ball, and I told you I was sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Cross didn’t bother taking a fork or knife, instead just shoving a piece of French toast straight into his mouth, but not before drenching it in butter and syrup. I couldn’t help but cringe again as the syrup got all over the counter. And this is why I don’t like to cook for him. But I was no less of a mess, covering my serving in all the toppings until it was nearly a pile of sweet mush. It looked kind of gross but it tasted _amazing_. Cross snorted as I sucked up all of the food, guarding his pile so I wouldn’t steal any--which is actually pretty common.

“So, ya’ said ya’ wanted ta’ look around town, right?” I swallowed and wiped my face off with a napkin before nodding.

“That’s correct. Do you happen to have a map of the area so I may go about my way?” He belched loudly, making me crinkle my nose in disgust. Sometimes his manners are atrocious.

“Nobody really uses maps anymore, kid. I’ll drop you off in the shopping district downtown; you can call me when you’re done,” I smiled softly, taking the plates to wash them off in the sink before storing them in the dishwasher.

“I would very much appreciate you doing that, if you do not mind.”

“Why the fuck would I offer it in the first place if I minded, ya’ brat.” I clicked my tongue in annoyance, choosing not to make another remark. Sometimes it’s best to retreat instead of getting into a petty fight. We stayed in mostly silence, I cleaning up from breakfast, humming a song I couldn’t remember the name of, and Cross chewing on a toothpick as he read the newspaper. I reached into the cupboards, scrounging around a while before grabbing the familiar steel handle.

“Would you like some coffee? I’m putting the kettle on now.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, flipping to a new page. I left the tap on to fill up the kettle as I searched for the coffee grounds and tea leaves.

“Cream and sugar?” I asked, the half-n-half carton and jar of sugar cubes balanced in my arms, nearly dumping them onto the table before lighting the gas stove.

“Yeah, two cubes, and tone down on the creamer this time,” said Cross, he gave me a knowing look. I chuckled sheepishly, cringing as I grabbed a set of mugs. Cross always uses the Batman one because it was quote-on-quote “manly” while I prefered to use a plain black mug, it made tea stains harder to notice.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t realize what I was doing.” Cross grunted, folding the paper before picking up the comics section. I stood next to the stove, setting the strainers up in the mugs; one with breakfast tea leaves and one with coffee grounds. I measured out 25 milliliters of creamer and two cubes for each cup before putting everything else away. The kettle starts whistling slowly before reaching a screeching tone right as I flick the stove off.

“Careful not to burn yourself, junior.” I snorted at his comment, moving my head out of the way as not to get a facefull of steam while I filled the cups.

“Junior? That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, well you are tiny.” I made another clicking noise with my tongue, throwing away the grounds and leaves before mixing in the sweeteners.

“I’m average height for criminy sakes! Why do you insist on calling _me_ short just because _you’re_ freakishly tall,” I whined out in frustration. The sudden and loud laugh made me jump, almost spilling our beverages all over my good set of night clothes. “ _Please_ refrain from doing that, Cross. You’re going to give me a heart attack before I reach twenty!”

“Aw shuddup, you play rugby for fuck’s sake! That’s more likely to kill you before you piss your pants, little scaredy-cat.” I huffed, moving over to the sink and holding his mug over it tauntingly.

“Well,” I sighed dramatically before smirking, “I guess that means you don’t need your coffee. Oh well, truly a waste. What a shame.”

“God dammit, fuck. Allen, don’t. I’ll die without my morning coffee.”

“Well then I better call an ambulance. It was 911 correct?” Cross groaned, planting his face on the table, acting like a child as he whined. The laughter bubbling up made me shake, I set the mugs down before I would spill them. “You’re such a baby sometimes, aren’t you supposed to be my guardian?” He swiped the coffee off the table.

“Fuck you,” he mumbled. The face I made had Cross choking on his coffee from laughter. A snort escaped me and I slapped a hand over my mouth and nose. The twat across from me tried to spit the coffee in his mouth back into the cup before he showered us in its spray as he too snorted in amusement. I pointed an accusing hand at him.

“No’ a bloo’y word, bruv. The tea’s still burn’n hot an’ I ain’t afraid ta’ throw ‘t at ya’.” I slipped into the accent before I even realised it, making me scowl as Cross tried to keep a straight face. “I can still see ya’,” I mumbled into my cup, trying not to smile. The smirk on his face was hard not to see even while he tried to hide in his coffee mug. I wonder what has gotten him so bubbly today.

I took a sip of my tea and shivered at the sudden warmth that trickled down my throat. Tea is always the best when hot. How people only drink it over ice is beyond me. I took another sip, a longer one with my eyes closed, goosebumps covered my arms and I might’ve made a noise akin to a moan if the raised-eyebrow-look Cross gave me meant anything. With a firm grip on my cup I flipped him the V and then proceed into the parlor. Cross threw an un-witty comeback at me but I was already curled up on the sofa with my feet tucked under me--my go-to sitting position.

The black rim of my chosen mug blended in with the colour of the tea, the only indicator of its contents being the heavy heat in my palms and the subtle light reflections. I swished the tea around in the cup, fascinated by the opalescent glares. Thankfully the mug was larger, deeper really, so I could make the drink last longer. I took another sip, the bitter taste of the tea was slightly muddled as well as sweetened by the cream and sugar, but still strong. Just the way I like it. The best way I could describe the beverage was smooth, it was like drinking silk.

“So,” Cross jumped over the back of the sofa and flopped down in the seat, “what’s the game plan today, squirt?” The muscles in my neck spasmed and burned I turned my head so fast. I groaned, set down my drink and kneaded my neck with my hands. I squinted my eyes shut.

“Would ye just stop with the names, Cross. See this? Yer givin’ me a bloody crink in the neck,” I moaned out, gesturing dramatically to my neck.

“No, that’s from playing rugby, _half-pint_.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

**Author's Note:**

> I know that I should be updating my Haikyuu!! fanfic "Loved Once" but I am still working on the next couple chapters. In the mean time, here is part of a yullen rugby fic I wrote awhile back after my first rugby final where my team won 3rd in state.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


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